


Faster Than Lightning

by odheirre



Category: Carpe Noctem, Vampire: The Masquerade, World of Darkness - Fandom
Genre: F/M, The Echo Chamber, characters you haven't heard of, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odheirre/pseuds/odheirre
Summary: The High Court and the Low Court argue about who gives a gift from Jan Merryfields.





	Faster Than Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: This takes place about two weeks before the Grand Court reception.

If you want a mission done quick in the Low Courts, there’s two things to know. First, give it to Del (that’s me). Second, don’t have a pompous old earth Fae deliver the mission. They got the first part right.

I was standing in Zhitel's private chamber for what seemed like forever. He just sat on the foot of his bed, smoking his pipe and staring at me. Zhitel looked comical, his legs dangling a few feet from the floor, ragged shorts, beard in all directions, beady eyes. But, I could feel the magic radiating from the furniture, the stone floor, the walls, everything. I smelled pine and oak, like I was in a dark forest all alone. I could not stand the silence, and the two fae earth servants he had at his side sure weren’t going to say anything. No human servants for this fae, he only has the genuine article here. “You summoned me, my lord?”

Pause. Puff. Wait. Probably the wrong decision to say something, but I couldn’t help myself. “Yes.” I choked back a dozen smart-ass responses. Zhitel was relatively new in the Low Court, but he had power and the ear of Leonid, and _he_ had the ear of King Lars, so Zhitel could make my life easy or difficult in so many ways. If I slipped up, I’d be one of those servants for a hundred years.

Who am I fooling? They can’t do that. I’m a lightning sprite and a rare wonderful unique snowflake. I grew up in the mortal realm, just a hyperactive boy with parents who couldn’t cope and a few hundred years before Ritalin was invented. I loved to run, and I loved noise, and I loved destruction, and it was only my size and youth that didn’t get me into more trouble. Then, on my thirteenth birthday, I popped up in the middle of the Low Courts. It was my nature to be attracted to the Fae, and it was luck that it was the Low Court, because lightning is a mix of fire and air. They could have killed me then, or sent me to the High Court. But, King Lars took me under his wing (well, not personally, he’s got people for that), and I’ve been a messenger ever since. They taught me how to choose my final form, how to collect and give geases, how to bargain, how to screw with the mortals and avoid the things that aren’t mortals, the whole kit and caboodle. I don’t have enough status as those who started their existence with the Fae, but I make do. I don’t have the riches and the power of the established Fae, but I get fed and laid and respected. What else is there? And if I’d stayed with the mortals, I’d probably be locked up, which would have killed me. Literally. I owe my life and my allegiance to King Lars, which I gave willingly and wholeheartedly. Part of the geas thing.

Anyway, Zhitel was scowling at me. I may have been fidgeting a bit. Then, finally, painfully slowly, he spoke. “Del.” Yes, sir, I know my name, and your sure as shit not talking to the servants. “You are here on behalf of King Lars, whom we both owe fealty to.” I know that, my King ordered me to come here, and that’s why I’m standing at the foot of your bed. “I have a message for you to deliver.” Of course you do, sir, that’s my job. Although I give an exquisite full-body massage, I am a messenger. “It’s a very important message.” Of course, because you’re asking me to deliver said message. All the messages I deliver are important. “I expect a response.” And, then, nothing. Fuck me.

“Is this for the mortals, my lord?” I prompted. “Or perhaps one of the other factions?” Please say werewolves. I haven’t seen a werewolf up close ever, and I’m a glutton for new experiences.

Smoke wisps from his pipe floated to the ceiling. “Mortals.” Dang. “Specifically, Jan Merryfields, one of our close mortal allies. She dabbles in earth magic, crystals, dirt, similar to my own.” I was there a long time ago, vaguely remembered it. Remembered the location, vaguely remembered the name.

He stopped again, and I felt that dark forest around me. “And the message is?”

Apparently I spoke out of turn because this rewarded me with another scowl under his beard, another puff on his pipe, and a hrmph. The servant to his left flinched a bit. Finally, he spoke. “The message is: ‘We of the Low Court formally request a gift that we may display at the Grand Court reception. This will show your blessing and support for the Grand Court at the express and special behest of the Low Court.’”

Got it. None of this “memorize a book.” That makes it easy. Zhitel didn’t say anything after his message, so I asked, “Is there a specific time or location for the message?” It was like pulling teeth.

“She is housebound.” Pause for a double puff on the pipe. Exhale. For the amount of smoke he generates, I would expect the air to be like Los Angeles, but the smoke dissolved quickly. “The message must be delivered with enough time for Jan Merryfields to create a suitable gift.”

Which meant it could be as soon as possible, and I knew where she lived. I had a message and a destination and an expectation of a return response, so that’s all I needed. “Yes sir. I then take my leave.” And before he could dismiss me which would have taken about an hour, I left in a flash. Oh, a literal flash. My element was lightning, and I could take the form of a bolt and ionize the air to follow a path. Running like that was almost better than pizza. Yeah, I hurt people that got in my way, and maybe started a few fires, but that hurt me like hell and usually I could pass through without grounding myself. I could also travel between the realms this way, which was very handy for a messenger. I was standing at Zhitel's bedside, and four seconds later, I was knocking on Jan Merryfield’s rather bright yellow door. I loved being fast.

Jan opened the door. She reminded me of the grandma I didn’t have, thin and bony and wrinkled and wearing a red and orange floral muumuu. A pink handkerchief was wrapped around her hair. Dirt was under her fingernails, and she held a teacup in her left hand, still steaming with heat. She didn’t seem magical, but I was never that good on picking up on powers. She said, “Oh my.” I was wearing a thin white jogging shirt and running shorts. Loved that stuff, just whisked the sweat off of me. And I was good looking too, tan and bishonen with long black hair in a ponytail. “This is a day for guests. Come in.” She stepped aside, leaving the door open. “Make yourself at home in the living room, at the end of the hall. Would you like some tea?”

Travelling was a thirsty work, and any excuse to spend time in the mortal world was worth taking. “Don’t mind if I do, ma'am,” I said, stepping in. "I do have a message for you." She muttered something about getting an extra tea cup and shuffled off to the side room, kitchen maybe? I remembered, I’ve been to her house once, and it was when Jan was just a kid, training with her grandmother. It was a small hallway, and I was almost at the end before the term “guests” registered. So, I looked into the living room with some trepidation.

It was a very grandmothery living room. Sewing machine in the corner. Lots of plants with leaves spraying all over. Room was warm, which was fine with me. Grandfather clock ticking away. Flowery wallpaper, peeling at spots. Rocking chair with knitting needles on the side. Couch and loveseat lined with that horrible plastic that sticks to your skin. And on that couch sat Cici in all their glory. The one on the left waved, and the one on the right scooted over and patted the space between them.

I’d heard of Cici, but never saw them in the flesh, as it were. They were air sylphs, identical twins, although the technical term is they were one being that shared two bodies. Something like that. My fae knowledge was horrible. All I really knew of them was they were wicked cunning and quick. High Court. Blonde and top-heavy and curvy and gorgeous, their dress was long and flowing and almost transparent, where you just got a glimpse of skin. My heart skipped a beat when I saw them, for more than one reason. I walked over like a zombie and sat between them. “Hi,” the left one said. “I’m Cici.” The right one said, “You’re a lightning sprite? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

The left one extended her hand. I recovered, twisted to face her, took her hand, kissed it, and gave her an electrical shock, just enough to tingle. She felt it. “My name is Del, and your reputation precedes you. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled, and I felt the right one put her hand on my back, just below my shoulder, and her other hand lightly touched my hip. “My. Can you do that tingle at will?” I knew I was in trouble. 

“Anywhere you like. And that’s just one of my talents.”

Just then, Jan saved me with with two teacups. I took this opportunity to disengage, took my cup and moved myself to the loveseat. The left one pouted a bit, but we all turned to Jan. She sat down in the rocking chair and set her teacup aside. The chair creaked under her weight slightly. “Well now, I haven’t been courted so much since my marrying days. Del, this is Cici. Cici, Del.” Ah, I got introduced first, that was a good sign. “First,” and Jan turned towards me. “You have a message?”

“Yes. We of the Low Court formally request a gift that we may display at the Grand Court reception. This will show your blessing and support for the Grand Court at the express and special behest of the Low Court.” Nailed it. Message sent. Now to get a response.

“Interesting. The High Court also requested a gift. Making two gifts would be improper, so I need to choose which house my gift represents. My allegiance has traditionally been with the Low Court….”

Cici, the one on the right, said, “I have been given permission to extend one favor to you. One House Fae is yours to do what you will, for the duration of one year. No restriction in activity, but limited to one location in the mortal world of your choosing.” Left Cici and Jan turned towards me.

Damn damn damn. I drank some tea to stall. Sweet and a bit spicy, tasted good. After I set the teacup down, I was nowhere nearer a solution. So, I said, “I have no permission to give a favor.” I could have thrown in a favor from myself, but I’m just the messenger. It was Zhitel's fault to not give me anything to bargain with. OK, he might have had I not left so quickly, but it’s still his fault.

“I see. Well, as tempting as the High Court’s offer is, choosing based on favors seems crass. Traditionally, a contest is in order? What kind of contest should it be?”

“Wrestling?” I said, winking at Left Cici. “Clothes optional, of course. I’m a traditionalist.”

She smiled. “But I get to use both bodies. Imagine how that would turn out.” I did and returned her smile. “How about karaoke?”

I knew she could easily best me in anything arts related. “No karaoke machine.”

“I can get one.”

Jan interrupted us. “I know. A physical race. Deal?”

Both Cici’s and I smiled. “Deal,” we said in unison. Air sylphs are usually fast, but I’m faster. I’m the fastest.

“Fine. Here are the terms. Touch the well at the edge of my property, and first person to touch my house wins. First person in human form, that is,” she said, looking at me. “I am insured, but I don’t want to repair my house from lightning strike. It’s about a quarter-mile, flat ground. No spells, no interference before or during the race to hamper the other person.”

We got up and walked outside. Jan was a gardener, with red and blue and violet flowers everywhere. I didn’t think anything would bloom this early in the season, but apparently they do. Jan said she’d be at the house to judge the winner, and to listen for a bell as the signal to start. Cici asked if she could give us a half-hour before the race started, and Jan agreed. So, the Cici’s and I walked to the edge of the yard. A slight breeze was blowing, not enough to affect the race. It was chilly, but sunny. I got the Cici’s mixed up, not that it mattered, so I’m not sure which one mentioned to me, “So, you think you’re going to win?” The other Cici was ahead of us, keeping a good pace.

“Yeah.” I may have not answered as enthusiastically as I should have. I was wondering if she was trying to put a spell on me. It would be cheating, but if Cici was subtle enough, Jan wouldn’t have noticed. She’s only mortal after all.

“Scared I may win? A lightning sprite, lose in a race? I understand if you have your doubts, but your kind are legendary.”

I took the bait. “Want to put a side wager on this?”

“A minor geas, loser owes the winner? It would make it more interesting…”

I went into bargaining mode, and I felt the magic between us coalesse. All three bodies, actually, which was weird. “A single or multiple tasks not lasting collectively more than two hours absolute duration at a mutually agreed time, not tradable, no permanent harm, change, dishonor, or loss of possessions, not involving any fae’s confidences or Truenames, and not breaking any existing oaths, geases, favors, promises, or loyalties.” I didn’t think she’d be a jerk about abusing a geas, but you have to protect yourself.

“Sounds good. Better make it a full day duration, absolute time. I have two bodies you’ll need to take care of.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware of both bodies. Never had the pleasure of being with an air sylph before.”

She grinned. “If you win.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.” I felt the magic solidify. I’m pretty magic-blind, but one of the first things I learned was what happened when a geas or contract hit you. And what happened if you broke one. My tutor told me horror stories about fae who broke geas.

We made it to the well, the place Jan said her property ended. I said, “Now what? We have, what, twenty minutes before we start?”

One of them said casually, “I just wanted to stretch out a bit before running. And I’m not really wearing the right clothing for a race.” She took the dress and pushed it against her skin, and it started disappearing in strategic places, fading away to mist. There was very little left of it when she was done. I think I was staring. “Do you need to stretch?”

“Um, I’m good.”

“Fine. I’d hate to get a leg cramp while I’m on the field.” And she bent over. And stretched. And posed. Very flexible. She's not going to be running, I thought, just turn to mist and float across the field. Still, I watched. She said, “Oh, I hope this isn’t considered interfering before the race starts.”

We had ten minutes. “I don’t mind.”

I continued to watch her stretch, and then the show ended. “OK, time to get to the starting line.” She jumped up and touched the roof of the well.

I followed suit, confirmed that I could still turn to lightning, felt the spark inside me. Then I looked around, “Hey, where is your other body?”

“At the house.” And the bell went off, a loud single dinner-bell clang that reverberated through the countryside.

I later did the math. I can travel about 200,000 mph, which comes out to 0.00000125 hours to travel a quarter-mile. That’s about 0.0045 seconds. My reflexes are much better than normal, so add 0.01 seconds of reaction time, and maybe 0.003 seconds of change to turn to lightning. Changing back to my regular form is the main drag on time; that takes about 0.05 seconds. That final millimeter of touching the house is another 0.005 seconds. That totals up to about 0.0725 seconds it took me to get from the well to touch the house.

That’s still slower than 0.0000 seconds, which is the time it took for Cici’s other body to walk back to the house and touch it _before Jan rang the fucking bell_. She was leaning on the house as I zapped back from lightning to my regular form. This Cici was still fully dressed, too, hadn't broken a sweat. Both this Cici and Jan were smiling at me, Cici more of a smirk.

Jan Merryfields said, “Based on my observation, it was a close race but the High Court won. Any objections?” I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I knew when I was outbargained, by all of them. “I’ll create something nice for the High Court to present, and I’ll take that favor from the High Court in return. Please convey that to both your Courts.”

I mumbled my agreement. King Lars was not going to be happy with this. Remember, I rehearsed in my head, I was just the messenger. The Cici that was here laughed and agreed much more enthusiastically as I saw her other body float towards us. “Don’t worry, your loss will be our little secret," Cici-here said. "Meet me tomorrow at Dublin’s, sunset, and you can work off your geas. Remember, twenty four hours. I hear you give a great body massage, and you can do that twice. At least.” Sigh. I nodded and felt magic between us flare up. A geas was a geas, and I am a glutton for new experiences.


End file.
